


Dents in Your Armour

by RecklessPencils



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RecklessPencils/pseuds/RecklessPencils
Summary: Fen'Harel doesn't feel like the Great and Powerful God of Rebellion this evening. A hard battle and much lost on both sides left him feeling depressed, exhausted, and alone.  A surprise awaits him in his personal chambers.





	Dents in Your Armour

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic....as in first ever in all everdom... I chose the non smutty short first to dip my toes in. I will save the "please be gentle" for the more risky works later on". :)
> 
> I am not sure how to tag this but there is no violence or heavy stuff. Suggestions welcomed.  
> Also, please forgive any grammar and spelling errors. I don't have an editor, I'm winging it. :D
> 
> This short happens after Tresspassers. There are mild suggestive spoilers for the relationship outcomes. 
> 
> **I do not own DAI or any of the characters. I do not make any money or gain anything other then personal entertainment from my writing.

The Eluvian came to life as he stepped through into his place of solace. “Home”, he thought bitterly. The ancient archway leading to his private quarters were cracked but holding. He refused to allow his people to repair them. A reminder, he told them, of what was lost and should not be forgotten. What we are fighting to renew. He kept his hair shaved, a show of penance for past mistakes and to show his people that their general was equal to them. That he serves them as much as they serve him in this bloody battle to bring down the veil.  
Today’s fight had come with a great cost for the Dread Wolf. His feet carry him through the crumbling hall and into his chambers. He moves with practiced motions while his mind is lost in thought. The wards lower around his door at his approach. He barely feels the shift in power as he steps through and begins unlatching the clips on his armor. The door closes behind him and the wards instantly return to life. 

He leaves his armor by the door. The dents and dried blood giving an all too real awareness to his near death and the deaths of the many soldiers that fell in the wake of his fury. He had so much more to do. It felt like it would never end. 

Fen’Harel…He doesn’t feel like a Great and Powerful Rebel God. He rolls his bruised shoulder as he walks farther into the room, stretching out his aches. All serious damage to his body was healed but the bruises, the aches; he left them as a reminder. He doesn’t want to forget his failures. He doesn’t deserve to.  
He moves with slow careful movements towards a steaming tub awaiting him in the middle of the room. When did the servants have time to prepare him a bath? As he approaches, he sees a fire rune glowing at the edge of the tub. It could have been here for hours and still stayed hot in wait for him.

Clever…

A smirk and a small shake if his head at the thoughtful gesture. They shouldn’t have, but he appreciates it regardless. Another kindness he doesn’t deserve.  
He removes his battle stained under clothes and prepares to step into the bath. A small groan escapes his lips as he sinks down into the heated water. Closing his eyes, he sighs as the ache and knots begin to ebb from his muscles. 

A gentle scent, familiar and startling turns his head. Beside the bath is a small wooden table that had gone unnoticed. On top of the table was an ornate crystal wine glass, a bottle of white wine, and small rectangular blue box with a silver ribbon and bow. 

He eyed the box suspiciously but could sense no foul magic or traps. Carefully he reached over, pulled the ribbon free and lifted the lid. His eyes widened and mouth watered as he was hit with the full flavored aroma of lemon, vanilla and chai icing. Six decadent little cakes each covered in intricate designs and wrapped in frilly silver doilies…His favorites…But who here could possibly know that secret guilty pleasure? 

He pondered over this curious situation while reaching for the wine bottle and uncorking it. The sweet smell of iced white grapes and peaches filled his nostrils and he nearly dropped the bottle in surprised recognition. He turned the bottle ‘round to see the label. “Private Collection of the Clan Levellan” Only one person had ever shared a bottle like this with him before. With shaking hands, he placed the bottle back on the table and looked around the room. Reaching with his senses he could feel the ghosting hint of a magic fingerprint that could belong to only one person.  
A person, he thought with amused irritation, whom should not only be unable to find this location but, certainly should not have been able to sneak in unnoticed. A certain someone who knew his favorite treat, his favorite wine (because it went so well with cake) and, would have gotten news of the recent battle that cost so much on both sides….  
Shaking his head and smiling sadly, he poured himself a glass of wine and reached for one of the treats. And paused…one of the cakes had a single small bite taken out of it. He couldn’t help the laugh-half-sob that escaped his lips. It was a message…One that conveyed so much in such a small action. 

It was permission...It was forgiveness…It was acceptance…

He sipped the wine and took in all the things she had set up for him while he was away. Night clothes were laid out on the bed. The notes and papers on his desk were respectfully untouched. The fire had been lit and there was a feeling of warmth and welcome to his chambers that had not been there before. Shaking his head in awe of all she had accomplished in secret, he returned his gaze to the cakes thoughtfully. After a moment his smile turned sideways into an amused smirk of pride…Everything she did also came with another more pronounced message… “Mine.” 

He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the tub’s rim. He could almost hear her voice humming in the air, floating on the magic that was so potently hers…

She never pushed, never pried. The last time they spoke, she told him that she would never give up on him. He shook his head at that and coldly told her that she should. That he wasn’t worth it. That she deserved better. But she had made up her mind, and her will and focus would not be swayed. Secretly, his heart danced with this truth. She would not walk away, but she would not push.  
Ellena Levellan was a force to be respected and feared. She had armies and the Inquisition at her command. Her victorious roar could be heard across all of Thedas…and she had once again, found him, and walked right through his defenses. That alone should have him up and rushing to move his people and head to another safe house, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from this small moment of comfort she granted him.

For all her power and reach, she did not charge into his chambers with an army and a violent spell…She strolled in with the breeze and left only warmth and gentleness in her wake. 

She never pushed…but she made her message clear…

“You are not alone.”


End file.
